


Frog Arms & Butterfly Girl

by themoonandmargot



Category: Smosh
Genre: Alternate Universe - Retail, Gen, Misunderstandings and General Dumbassery, friendship bitch!!, mentions of weshire and shaymien, rated teen bc of cursing and one cheeky innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 05:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19350895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonandmargot/pseuds/themoonandmargot
Summary: He was a boy (with arms sort of like frog legs). She was a girl (with an intense fear of butterflies). Can I make it any more obvious? (yes,please)





	Frog Arms & Butterfly Girl

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to Dove aka @shaylivias on Tumblr, who has been incredibly, blessedly patient as I write this, and is also just overall a wonderful person. Enjoy, everyone :')

_So this,_ Olivia thinks, _is the infamous “Frog Arms”._

Up close, the customer in front of her somehow both meets and subverts all her expectations. He’s attractive—not perfect, weirdly and blessedly, as his nose seems the slightest of skewed, and his height almost doesn’t match his build—but his clothes suggest that he’s also approachably bummy in an acceptable, Californian sort of way. Just another blond with blue eyes passing through the store. And when Olivia glances over his arms, well, Court is right. They sort of do look like frog legs.

But she has yet to understand why Courtney has to avoid this so-called Frog Arms by unloading her stack of hangers onto Joven’s arms and slinking to the women’s fitting rooms. He can’t be too bad, Olivia thinks as he offers them a sorry smile and approaches them with what will surely be another commonplace question–

“Hi, do you guys happen to know if you carry protein powder?”

 _Protein powder?_ Olivia blinks, confused. It sounds silly enough, but she can’t tell if the man before her is kidding or not.

“Um, personally, that would be a no,” Joven replies beside her. “We might have it in the snack aisle. But I mean, like… this is a Marshalls.”

Either Frog Arms decides to ignore Joven’s sass or he never detects it. “Ah, okay,” he says. “Uh, where would the snack aisle be?”

“Oh, I would show you, but,” Joven gestures with the hangers in his arms, “I’ve got a lot going on right now. Maybe my coworker here could…?”

“Sure,” Olivia heaves, flashing Frog Arms a smile.

“Lots of hanging to do,” Joven continues. “Hanging hangers, I mean. Not hanging myself. That would be very dark. Your protein powder question wasn’t _that_ weird.”

“Oh my god, okay. You can follow me,” Olivia says, leading Frog Arms away from Joven.

It’s a short stroll to the food and snack aisle, made especially quick by Olivia’s wariness. She leads Frog Arms along shelves of candy, all while Courtney’s rant replays in her head, like a cautionary tale of sorts: _It just pisses me off. He comes here twice a week just to ask like, fourteen questions. Like, this is a Marshalls. How can you have questions in a Marshalls?_

 _I don’t know, Court. I don’t know,_ Olivia replies back, over and over again. She really _doesn’t_ know anything about the situation she’s in—who she’s helping, how many questions he’s actually going to ask, just how long that ominous, boxed pasta has been sitting in this very aisle. So Olivia does the only thing she knows she can do: linger and wait for the moment she can be useful.

She teeters on her feet, bending down and stretching high to scan the shelves. Though she knows it’s a hopeless scavenge, she pretends otherwise as Frog Arms beside her searches the shelves just as thoroughly. “So, are you looking for any specific type of protein powder?” she asks.

“Uh…” Frog Arms shrugs. “Vanilla? I dunno, I’m not all that picky.”

Olivia forgets to hide her laugh. “You’re not?”

“Nah, not really. To be honest, I don’t usually ask questions about this sort of stuff.”

_“You don’t?”_

Frog Arms shrugs again and this time Olivia notices how little his frog arms actually move when he does so. Then she watches him glance to his side, right where a bulk bottle of vanilla protein powder is sitting, and he plucks it off the shelf with a surprised hum. Olivia returns his smile, but only for a moment.

She crosses her arms. “Then what about Courtney?” she asks.

Perplexed, Frog Arms looks up from his bottle. “Courtney?”

“Yeah, the…” Olivia motions towards the back of the store, only to remember the person of interest is stashed away in fitting room stalls. “The blond girl who works here? The one you talk to all the time?”

Frog Arms hoists up one of his frog arms to rub the back of his neck in thought, when it hits him. "Oh, shoot, is Courtney her name? I didn’t actually know that," he reveals. “Well, every time I come here, she just looks really stressed, so I figured making conversation would help ease her nerves.”

Olivia nearly snorts. _You’ve never worked in customer service, have you?_ Still, she stretches her lips into a smile and resists the urge to flat-out insult the customer in front of her. “Uh, nope. She, um… like, hates conversation,” Olivia lies.

“Oh, shoot, really? Okay, I get that, that’s totally fine,” Frog Arms says. “But then… why is she in retail?”

Olivia laughs, an awkward sound, then broadens her smile with eyes wide in anguish. “I mean, why are any of us in retail if not for the money, right?” she grits.

It’s definitely too real of an answer for everyone involved. Frog Arms nods, wincing. “Alright, fair enough.”

So now they stand there, silent, save for the roll of the protein powder bottle in Frog Arms’ hands. The air feels awkward and tense at the same time, a horrible combination, and Olivia can only attribute it to the fact that she just snapped at a customer—if having a mini-existential crisis in front of a customer counts as snapping. It’s something she rarely does, as it’s almost always followed by the debilitating fear that one of her bosses will find out and fire her on the spot. But weirdly, Frog Arms and his comically-humongous bottle of protein powder overwhelms Olivia’s senses with an emotion other than fear and general regret. No, for some reason, she feels _guilty._

Olivia cards her fingers through her hair and groans. “Wow, okay, sorry. I’m being really weird right now.”

Frog Arms grins awkwardly. “Nah, it’s fine. You’re just being honest, I guess.”

“Yeah, too honest,” Olivia says, letting her hand drop against her legs.

“Listen, I get it. If some random guy walked into the clothing store I worked in and asked if we had protein powder, I’d get weird, too.”

Sheepish, Olivia scrunches her face, twisting into a silent giggle, and Frog Arms laughs along with her. She quickly composes herself, though, clarifying, “No, you don’t deserve that. I can tell you’re a nice guy. People don’t go out of their way to talk to someone in distress unless they’re nice.”

“Ah, well. You’re nice, too, for helping me find this,” Frog Arms says, shaking the bottle in the air. “Thanks, by the way.”

“It’s the least I could do. And I’m not just saying that because I’m on the clock.”

Olivia smiles and Frog Arms smiles back. Then he rolls the bottle one more time in his hands before stepping away. “Well, I better check this out,” he says. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yep. See ya.” Olivia waves bye, watching him until she realizes she’s alone in the snack aisle. As she looks around, she marvels at the absurd and unexpected amount of protein powder they have in stock. _How did he even miss this the first glance around?_

She tsks, and with a shake of her head, walks back towards the fitting rooms. Maybe Frog Arms was being nice by asking Courtney all those questions, but maybe what Courtney said wasn’t wrong, either; _when you’re in L.A., a man with frog arms is almost always a man with a frog brain._

 

* * *

 

Later after work, Olivia and Courtney have their routine chat during the walk to their cars. The sky is a dark, dusty periwinkle, the parking lot is near-empty, and it’s apparently the perfect time for Olivia to drop a bombshell she had no idea was a bombshell.

“Y’know, that Frog Arms guy is actually pretty nice,” she says.

 _“What?”_ Courtney laughs.

“Like, he’s definitely weird,” Olivia adds, brutally honest. “But he’s still really nice.”

They make it to their cars, parked next to each other as always. Courtney only hums in reluctant agreement as they both turn their backs to each other and fix their belongings. They’ve still got five minutes of conversation on their hands, right until their shared bag of leftover Hot Cheetos clears itself out along with the after-work traffic. It’s routine, inevitable. But before Olivia can turn back around and offer the remains of her lunch, she decides to investigate, just this once.

“Do you not think he’s nice?” she asks, hopping into her back seat to face Courtney.

Courtney sits on the floor of her own car so that her legs swing out of the door. Then she laughs, a stunted sound of disbelief and reevaluated opinions. “I mean, yeah, I guess he’s nice. But he’s just… I just…” Slowly, she looks to Olivia and raises her brows. “Do you think he’s cute?”

Now Olivia’s had to answer to a lot of strange things over the course of this job, but _that_ might be the most “out there” question she’s been asked on these premises. She doesn’t understand where it came from or why it needs to be asked, but then she looks at Courtney—awkward, uncertain, afraid. Can’t even make eye contact while munching on a handful of Hot Cheetos.

And it all clicks. _Courtney likes Frog Arms._

“Uh, yeah, he’s cute,” Olivia says with a tiny lilt to her voice. “He’s not really my type or anything, but like, he’s cute.”

“Oh.”

“Not that my opinion matters.”

“Liv, what?" Courtney jumps to her feet to place her hands on Olivia’s arms. “Your opinion _does_ matter! Of course it does. Why wouldn’t it?”

Courtney leaves orange imprints on Olivia’s skin when she steps back, but Olivia still grins. “I dunno. I just didn’t think I had much of a say in the matter.”

“Dude, you have a say. I swear,” Courtney assures, smiling softly. “And you know what, if that’s how you feel, then maybe I’ll do something about it.”

Olivia thinks back to all the hours spent sitting with Courtney in the break room, to all the rants she’s listened to because of a single guy with good-all-along intentions. Then she imagines another scenario further into the possible future, with Courtney blabbering about the same guy, but for good reasons. For _cute_ reasons.

Olivia wants that for Courtney, her best friend, her rock. So she smiles and nods, as if giving her blessing. “You should.”

“Oh,” Courtney says before grabbing the Cheeto bag out of Olivia’s hand and tossing it into her seat for the ride home, “I will.”

 

* * *

 

A week later, while Olivia restocks the protein powder bottles in the food and snack aisle _(who knew these were so popular?),_ Frog Arms approaches her with a bouquet in his hands.

“Hey,” he says.

“Oh, hey!” Olivia greets before spotting the bouquet. “Woah, did you buy those flowers here?”

Frog Arms laughs and scratches at his eyebrow. “Uh, no. Do… do you guys sell real flowers here?”

“I’m like, 99% positive that we do not. If we do, they’re nowhere near alive,” Olivia jokes. “Which is a good thing, because wherever you got those, they did an amazing job putting it together. Courtney’s gonna be so happy.”

Frowning, Frog Arms stumbles in his place and laughs a bit. “Uh, Courtney?”

“Yeah, she should be hanging things in the juniors’ section, I think?” Then Olivia gasps, clapping her hands together. “Oh, or I could leave it in the break room and we could surprise her with it!”

“Well, n-no, these aren’t for Courtney.”

Like that, Olivia’s smile falls. “They’re not?”

“No… they’re for you,” Frog Arms exhales, smiling painfully. Olivia stares back, horrified, but before she can reject the gift, he pushes the bouquet into her arms and explains himself. “Courtney came up to me earlier this week and told me everything. Problem is, I just…” Frog Arms pauses to wince. “I’m actually in a committed relationship right now.”

It’s a Marshalls-truckload of information thrown at her all at once, and Olivia can’t process any of it. “Wait, _what?”_ she blurts.

“No, I know, I should’ve told Courtney the second she suggested a date, but to be honest, she sort of scares me,” Frog Arms titters. “I mean, either way, I felt and still do feel really bad about everything, so I was hoping flowers might make things better.”

Olivia frowns, entirely confused. “Oh, so you… want me to give these flowers to Courtney?”

“You can do whatever you want with the flowers. I just wanted to say, y’know… I wasn’t intending to lead you on or give you false hope, not that you being in a relationship with someone is hopeful thinking, um… I’m sure you’re a great person, but you know, the whole ‘committed relationship’ thing…”

“Yeah, okay, I don’t…” Olivia scoffs then shakes her head. “I don’t think I understand what’s happening or why you need to filter all these words through me when it’d mean so much more for Courtney to hear it from you. I feel like that’s only fair.” She forces a smile then looks down at the bouquet. “And these flowers are beautiful, but I really don’t need–”

Olivia’s words catch in her throat as she processes what she’s holding. In the spaces between the flowers, all over the bouquet, sit dozens of springy, metal, hyperrealistic…

_Butterflies._

Olivia yelps and curses, tossing the bouquet back towards Frog Arms. The butterflies flutter in his arms as he catches them—a downright grotesque sight for Olivia. It’s made a million times worse when he steps forward in concern.

What’s left of her rationality suggests offering an explanation, or at least the standard, bullshit “customer satisfaction” niceties. But right now, she can barely hear anything Frog Arms is saying, let alone the own words swirling in her head. Frankly, she doesn’t _want_ to hear anything he says. No, she wants to leave and end up somewhere far, far away from the literal bundle of butterflies right in front of her. So she stumbles away and doesn’t look back.

In the blur of the store, Olivia can only imagine the mockery she’ll have to deal with for the rest of her days. _Rest in peace, Olivia, you’ll now forever be known as “Butterfly Girl”._

Then she turns the corner and nearly runs into Courtney. Her friend’s face quickly twists from curiosity into concern, and Olivia wants nothing more but to tell her the reason behind her shaky hands, to let Courtney fix everything that’s so obviously wrong.

But nope. Instead, Butterfly Girl _flies._

 

* * *

 

The storage room isn’t the “far, far away” Olivia had in mind when she fled the sales floor, but right now, it suffices: the handful of back-room workers couldn’t care less about her, the tall stacks of cardboard boxes give her the perfect amount of privacy, and most importantly, there are no butterflies in sight. Truly, it’s amidst shelves and shelves of clutter that Olivia almost feels at ease.

Then the doors fly open.

“Flowers!” Courtney bellows, storming through the mess towards Olivia. “Stupid flowers!”

Olivia sighs, raking her fingers down her face. _Here we go._ “I know, I’m sorry. But I just couldn’t accept that bouquet.”

“No, of course not. Flowers were a horrible decision, are you kidding me?” Courtney gruffs. She crosses her arms. “I would never advise someone to give a giant bouquet of flowers to someone they just met. I don’t blame you at all for freaking out.”

Olivia lets her hands fall from her face and reveals a small smile, her first one in a while. She opens her mouth to express her thanks, and then maybe tell the truth about the butterflies, until the doors fly open for a second time.

“Alright, what’s happening?” Joven barks out of nowhere. Bouquet in hand, he barges into the temporary refuge Olivia and Courtney have made for themselves and marches up to the two. “So for a second, I was under the impression that a very pretty man with very big muscles was giving me these flowers, but then he said they were for one of the girls back here which was very confusing but also somewhat upsetting?”

Irritated, Courtney snatches the bouquet from Joven’s hand. “These are for Olivia,” she explains. Then she turns to her friend and furrows her brows. “But hey, if you’re still sorta freaked out by the gesture, then we can just talk to Frog Arms and clear up the entire situation. Start over like brand new.”

“I’m not doing that,” Olivia huffs.

“Wait, so you like the flowers?” Courtney asks, frowning quizzically at the bouquet.

 _“No,_ I d–”

“Oh, come on, Liv, they’re sort of pretty,” Joven says. “I mean, look.”

He takes control of Courtney’s grip on the bouquet, pushing it closer to Olivia until it’s practically under her face and up against her body. To his and Courtney’s surprise, Olivia shrieks and smacks the bouquet away from her, unleashing an explosion of flower petals and fake butterflies onto the grody storage room floor. Then just as quickly, she gets to her feet and clears a good six feet between her and the carnage.

Joven bursts into laughter, apparently tickled by Olivia’s reaction. “Holy shit,” he sobs through walrus-like gasps.

Courtney slaps him on the arm before running up to Olivia with open arms. “Oh my god, are you okay?” she asks. “Shoot, are you allergic to pollen or something?”

“No, no, it’s just the…” Olivia thrusts her arm out, gesturing accusingly towards the flowers. “The stupid butterflies!”

Joven cackles louder as Courtney grips Olivia tighter, confused but still concerned. “Wait,” she says, “you don’t like butterflies?”

“I fucking _hate_ butterflies!” Olivia cries, fan-drying the apparent tears in her eyes.

“Oh, crap. Of course you hate butterflies. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Liv. I had no idea,” Courtney breathes. Then she slams her fist into the palm of her other hand. “Just wait, I’m gonna beat that guy up until his little frog arms pop off his tiny surfer dude body.”

“Oh, _yes,_ ” Joven eggs on, eyes sparking in attention. But Olivia clasps onto Courtney’s arm and shakes her head wildly.

“Court, no, don’t. He didn’t know I hated butterflies. He doesn’t know me at all, really. And I don’t even really know _him!”_ Olivia reasons. She sighs, and with the biggest, guiltiest puppy eyes, she looks to Courtney. “I just feel horrible. I don’t think he should’ve gotten me those flowers in the first place, and that’s not just because of the butterflies. Like, I’m not the one who likes him!”

Courtney stutters, with both the hand along Olivia’s back and the whispered _what?_ out her mouth. Olivia nods, even guiltier than before. “I don’t get why he couldn’t just give the flowers directly to you, y’know? That would make sense! He probably likes you, and I know you have feelings for him, so–”

“Okay, no, _what?_ What the hell are you talking about?” Courtney spits. “I do not like Frog Arms. You do.”

 _“What?_ What are you talking about? I never said I liked him, Courtney, I didn’t even…” Olivia stares into Courtney’s eyes, wide and wild. Olivia imagines she looks just as panicked, maybe even sounds just as delusional. It’s then Olivia knows that somewhere amidst all the lunchtime breaks and the Hot Cheeto chats, something has gone disastrously wrong.

And in conversations replayed a million times in the span of a second, it all clicks. It all actually clicks. And it’s the biggest shitshow any Marshalls in the Los Angeles area has ever seen.

“Oh my god,” Olivia gasps. “Oh _nononono,_ Court!"

“I thought you liked him,” Courtney rasps, stepping away with her hands across her face. “I could’ve _sworn_ you liked him. Shit. Oh my god, I thought… I told him that you wanted to go on a date with him. Shit!” She paces a hole into the floor, then flings her arms out towards Olivia. “But you told me that you thought he was cute!”

Olivia sinks her head into her hands and shakes her head like a mother in mourning. “I thought _you_ liked him and you were asking if I approved of him! Like I thought you were worried about liking someone who wasn’t cute and you wanted to make sure that _I_ thought–”

“Oh god, ew, no!” Courtney yelps. “Why would I think Frog Arms was _cute?”_

“I don’t know, why would I?” Olivia cries back before closing her eyes and breathing. It takes a moment for her to steady herself, but eventually she comforts herself with the fact that she’s made it through worse. “Okay. Okay, okay. It’s okay. I’m just… I’m gonna talk to him and explain everything, maybe send him off with a free bottle of protein powder, and it’ll all be fine. Right, Courtney?” She waits for a response, but it never comes. “Courtney?”

When she opens her eyes, she finds Courtney looking beside her. Olivia follows her gaze to the small, open space of the storage room where they were standing before.

“Where are the flowers?” Olivia asks. She tears her eyes away from the stray petals on the floor to Courtney, face blank and hands restless for a reason much scarier than a missing bouquet. 

“Where’s Joven?”

 

* * *

 

When Olivia emerges from the storage room, Frog Arms is the first person she sees. He doesn’t notice her at first, staring ahead in a stunned stupor. Then Olivia coughs, a pained, awkward sound, and he finally turns to her.

“Oh my god, hey. I’m so sorry about the bouquet,” Frog Arms says, face etched in worry. “Your coworker, Joshua, told me you were super afraid of butterflies and I feel even more horrible than I already did. Like, I probably owe you twice now.”

Olivia inhales _(oh god, what else did you possibly say, Joven?)_ then smiles. “No, it’s okay. The butterflies were one thing, but there was a misunderstanding between Courtney and me, and it screwed up everything. She thought I liked you, and I thought you liked her, and I also thought she liked you back, and… none of it was true, luckily. I mean, not ‘luckily’ because it was lucky for the both of us to not be in a relationship with you, but ‘luckily’ because… you have a girlfriend, right?”

Frog Arms releases a long-bated breath, then grins. “Boyfriend, actually.”

“Okay, great. That’s…” Olivia wrings her hands as the words set in. “Wow, we were really off, then.”

Frog Arms laughs, beaming with what can only be interpreted as relief. “Hey, I’m bi, so I guess not too off, if that’s any consolation.”

“It’s not. But thanks for trying,” Olivia quips. Then she winces. “Um, I was gonna give the bouquet back to you, but I think Jov—uh, Josh took it, so you might have to give me two to five business days to get it back.”

“Don’t sweat it. I figured you didn’t want the bouquet, and he seemed to really appreciate the arrangement, so I just told him he could keep it. He wanted to regift it to his boyfriend, Wesley, I think?”

“Wow, okay. He told you a lot while Courtney and I were back there, didn’t he?”

“He did.” Slowly, Frog Arms nods to himself and props his hands on his hips. “You know what, he really did.”

It’s a bizarre statement, one to which Olivia suddenly doesn’t know how to respond. But then his mouth drops in a small, amused laugh, and although he knows the thing he’s about to say will destroy Olivia, he decides it’s a double-edged sword he’s willing to bear.

“So… ‘Frog Arms’, huh?”

For the second time today, Olivia feels the world drop out from under her. Her eyes flitter between Frog Arms’ face and his arms that are still very much reminiscent of frog legs, and Olivia realizes the only way to control her gaze is to look away entirely. “Oh my god. _Joven,”_ she hisses, shielding her eyes with her hands. “No, wait, I promise that was just a nickname Courtney and I gave you because we never actually knew your real name and it wasn’t supposed to be mean, and like, you can call me ‘Butterfly Girl’ if you want, but we just–”

“No, listen. I get it.” Olivia lowers her hands from her face as Frog Arms cocks his head. “I mean, I don’t understand why ‘Frog Arms’ was your nickname for me, but… I don’t know your name, either. I was literally about to reject you and give you an entire-ass bouquet of flowers, and I didn’t even know your name. That would’ve been really shitty. We both sorta fucked up. So…” Frog Arms smiles and holds out a hand. “Shayne.”

A slow smile spreads across Olivia’s face before she reaches out. “Olivia.”

They shake hands, a proper start to their less-than-proper friendship. Shayne is still clasping Olivia’s hand when he jokes, “Olivia, I’m glad I didn’t completely traumatize you today.”

“Well, Shayne, I’m glad you didn’t have to break any hearts today,” Olivia says. “And I hope even after all this, we can still be friends.”

“That would be awesome… But a free twenty-five dollar giftcard would be awesome, too.”

“Mmm, you’re gonna have to settle for fifteen.”

“Deal.”

After one final shake, they let go of each other’s hand along with all the tension around them. It feels good. No more confusion. No more secrecy. Just an honest, open, unexpected yet well-needed friendship… but not without one last question.

“Okay, but really, why ‘Frog Arms’?”

“Don’t ask.”

 

* * *

 

A week later, for the first time ever, the Hot Cheeto hangout welcomes two new faces. Courtney was initially worried that the Cheeto bag wouldn’t be big enough for Shayne, Joven, and herself to share, but Olivia eats so little during lunch that it works out. That doesn’t save her from the guys’ teasing, though— _how do you take multiple bites of a single Cheeto?!_

In the week after the butterfly incident, numerous developments take place and certain truths surface. Joshua, now known as Joven to everyone in the group including Shayne, reveals that his boyfriend, Wes was immediately able to tell that the bouquet he gave him was regifted. “He complained there were too many gaping holes between the flowers,” Joven says, “but I made it up to him with the one gaping hole that matters.” To the group’s relief, he explains the gaping hole in question is Wes’ mouth; some good chocolate can heal a world of hurt, apparently.

Shayne also has his own confession: he got the bouquet in a two-for-one deal at his local grocery store—one for Olivia, the other for his boyfriend, Damien. Damien loved the flowers, and he loved the story about the new friend made at Marshalls, but he has yet to hear the part of the story where Shayne gifts those exact flowers to that same friend. Shayne is too ashamed to tell Damien the truth, but then Courtney rightfully guilts him into doing so. “If he really loves you, then he wouldn’t find the gesture any less meaningful,” she says. (Olivia chimes in with her own advice: “And if he’s cheap like you, he’d appreciate a deal like two bouquets for one.”)

But the _tea_ spills once the conversation pulls back to butterfly bouquets, to first encounters and pity-smiles. Joven starts off knowing the least about how their group came together, yet after all this talk, he ends up asking the real question at hand: _Olivia, if you knew Shayne was only talking to Courtney to be nice, why didn’t you immediately tell Courtney that? You could’ve prevented this entire mess from happening in the first place._

He makes a good, sobering point. Courtney gasps as the realization sets in. Shayne’s mouth snaps shut, allowing Olivia the silence to explain herself.

Problem is, Olivia doubts she has an explanation other than _I didn’t think it was all that important_ or even _I forgot._ It’s an honest answer, one that her friends won’t get angry at her about but will almost undoubtedly roast her on. So the answer she actually gives saves her from the friendly teasing, sure. But it’s honest in its own right and about a million times sweeter, anyway.

“Because,” she starts, then takes a breath and smiles. “Because I didn’t want to prevent anything. Because I knew from the beginning that we were special, and if I just let things happen as they happened, we could come together and become the amazing friends that we are now!”

Olivia knows they don’t buy it a single bit. But they still “aww” over it, snickering and smiling like the cute, little found family they are. Courtney even pulls them in for a group hug. Shayne laughs and shakes his head before leaning in. Then Joven tries to pout his way out of it, but he breaks the second Olivia squeezes his arm.

Sitting in an empty parking lot with both the drama and the rush hour far behind them, Olivia senses an amazing camaraderie that she’s never felt before. It’s worth all the butterflies, emotional and decorative. It’s the best thing to come out of her job.

And it’s all the more reason to stock up on many, many more bags of Hot Cheetos.


End file.
